I am not a literary giant

Chapter 88 My Mentorship

When Ning Chunyan returned home, her mother peeked out from the kitchen, while her father remained huddled in his bedroom with the door tightly shut. Only Chen Qingluo, like a graceful white magnolia, stood alone in the living room, looking somewhat lonely.

Ning Chunyan glanced at her mother, who was peeking through the door, then at Chen Qingluo in the living room. She tugged at her mother's sleeve: "What's wrong?"

"Qingluo seems to be a bit obsessed."

"When is she not obsessed?"

Ning Chunyan looked into the living room and saw that Chen Qingluo's face, as beautiful as the autumn moon, was changing expressions. Sometimes she looked like an innocent and carefree girl with starry eyes, sometimes she looked like an arrogant leader with disdainful eyes, and sometimes she gritted her teeth and wished she could kill everyone she saw and then grind their bones to dust.

She kept muttering incomprehensible lines, such as "I can never happily ride in your tuk-tuk again," or "Porcupine, hedgehog, gorilla, today I'm a little glutton," or "Your face is so cute, my arches are so arched, maybe..."

In short, the scene was quite terrifying. But it's clear that she must have had a very vast, complex, and profound inner world.

Ning Chunyan's mother asked worriedly, "Is Qingluo alright? Should we take her to the hospital to get checked out?"

Ning Chunyan smiled and said, "Mom, it's okay. This is just a normal state for a writer."

Ning's mother frowned and said, "But I think her symptoms are quite serious. Your father was startled by her while he was reading this morning, and he refused to come out."

Ning Chunyan said, "No, Mom, there's really no need to worry. Qingluo is the kind of writer who uses an experiential approach. She can imagine the characters in her novels in her mind, and she can even play the main character herself. Then she can talk to the characters in the book and deduce how the story will develop next."

"Even though you see her alone in the living room right now, in her world, the living room is actually full of people. There's a tutor sitting at the table, a ballet dancer lying on the sofa, and a Pekingese squatting on the floor. All of this is perfectly normal."

The more Ning's mother listened, the more suspicious she became. A chill ran down her spine despite the sweltering heat, and goosebumps rose on her skin: "Isn't this schizophrenia?"

Ning Chunyan laughed: "How could it be schizophrenia? She recovered on her own after finishing the book."

Ning's mother was lost in thought for a long time before asking, "What if she can't get out of character after finishing the book?"

Ning Chunyan was stumped by her question and said, "I don't think so. By the way, Mom, do you have any vases at home? I want to find a home for this bunch of baby's breath."

Ning's mother was delighted upon hearing this: "Who sent this to you?"

Ning Chunyan said, "No one gave it to me, so I bought it for myself."

Ning's mother's face instantly fell: "How could you, as my daughter, be so shameful? When I was young, our house always had flowers. When have you ever seen me buy flowers myself?"

Ning Chunyan felt insulted but couldn't refute it, so she could only ask, "Then let me ask you, were they all gifts from Dad? Who else gave them to you?"

Ning's mother changed the subject, saying, "Take Qingluo to your room to do the deduction. I need to clear the dining table in the living room so we can eat later."

Ning Chunyan was deeply troubled by this task. Although Chen Qingluo was beautiful and had a great figure, and even as a woman, she could hug and caress her every day without getting tired of her, her novel-writing skills were disastrously unbearable. At this moment, she had absolutely no desire to be near her.

But even though she didn't want to get close, she had to lead her away, otherwise her madness would continue and the whole family would go hungry. Just as she reluctantly walked to within three meters of her, Chen Qingluo suddenly turned back to look at her: "Is there any water?"

"Huh? Are you talking to me?"

"Who else is here besides you?" Chen Qingluo asked seriously.

Hearing her say that, Ning Chunyan knew she had given up on creating, so he gave her his sports water bottle, which Chen Qingluo immediately started chugging, clearly showing how thirsty she was.

After finishing her drink, Chen Qingluo said, "By the way, where do we keep the disposable water cups at home? That guy seems a bit thirsty too, let's pour him a cup as well."

Seeing her finger point to the empty dining table, as if someone were sitting on it, Ning Chunyan felt a chill run down her spine and grabbed her hand:

"Qingluo, calm down, don't be like this, I'm scared. There's no one at the dining table! Come on, come inside with me."

Chen Qingluo obediently let Ning Chunyan drag her into the bedroom. Only after Ning Chunyan closed the door did she regain some of her senses.

"Look, you've got a bit of belly fat coming out. Your bed is too soft, and you can't drink cola. I even found a lump of salt in the noodles I ate this morning. But your dining table is really sturdy... so I was a little hesitant to walk out just now. Sorry, I didn't scare you, did I?"

Ning Chunyan took out her phone and said, "I'm fine, it's good that I'm out of here. By the way, could you give me a pat on the back? I impulsively typed a really long message to send to the Little Prince. Do you think what I said was a bit too mushy?"

Chen Qingluo glanced at it: "No problem, hmm, quite affectionate."

"Won't it be very uncultured? I didn't think about using fancy words when I wrote it; I just wrote it down on a whim."

Chen Qingluo continued drinking water, saying, "You don't need literary talent, just emotion. As long as your emotions are abundant enough, everyone can be a poet."

After finishing her water, she wiped a glistening drop of water from her fair chin with the back of her hand and said, "The only thing that's really a bit cloying is your way of addressing me, 'Little Prince.' When did you pick up this habit? Are you trying something different?"

Ning Chunyan blushed: "It's just a form of address, don't overthink it! Look, calling me 'Mr. Little Prince' is too formal, calling me 'Brother Little Prince' is too manipulative, isn't calling me 'Lord Little Prince' a middle ground?"

"Your understanding of the Doctrine of the Mean is a bit off," Chen Qingluo pointed out incisively. "And when it comes to tea, you're practically confessing your feelings, even asking, 'Do you think this is love?' I'm about to throw up from all your tea-related questions."

"Puke, uke, uke! Who fed you water? Go ahead and throw it all up!"

……

After receiving Qiu Ge's heartfelt letter, the Little Prince silently put his phone back in his pocket. He neither answered "yes" nor "no" to her question.

Qiu Ge's question was too simple. Even the world's most obtuse fool would know the answer—the very ease of the question showed how much she loved the Little Prince.

Because when a woman falls in love with a man, she can't bear to present him with difficult problems.

But Wang Zixu suddenly became even more oblivious than the world's most slow-witted fool. He carefully read the text twice, meticulously saved it to his phone, and then carefully put the phone in his pocket. He felt a warm feeling in his heart.

If he knew that just minutes before, the woman had cried because of Zhang Qian, he would feel even warmer inside.

He would pat her back with a smile: "Okay, okay, don't cry, it's all in the past now, isn't it?" Zhang Qian married into her ideal life, and I also have a wife who doesn't mind that I have a government job. We both have a bright and beautiful future.

Unfortunately, he never knew that Ning Chunyan had cried over this matter.

Whenever he saw Qiu Ge's ID, the photo of her feet that she had sent him would flash through his mind—the lake-blue, open-toe high heels gleamed with a cold, porcelain-like sheen, making her alabaster-white instep and delicate, pearl-like toes appear even whiter. He would also recall Ning Chunyan's striking legs that day at the Writers' Association, long and gracefully curved, as pure and proud as a crane's neck reaching towards the sky.

What a beautiful foot, what a striking leg! It would be an injustice if this foot didn't grow on this leg.

Qiu Ge's true identity is already obvious, and he can't pretend he hasn't discovered it.

Autumn Song is Ningchun Banquet, and Ningchun Banquet is Autumn Song.

Before he learned Qiu Ge's true identity, he could hold her book with a smile, gently stroking the cover, picking up each page with his fingertips, letting the paper tremble slightly in the air; but after knowing that she was Ning Chunyan, he could no longer read her as casually as he would a book. That would put him under immense moral pressure.

Moreover, he has more important things to do now.

"Before get out of class ends, I want to tell you one last thing."

Inside the base, the aspiring scriptwriters sat scattered on the sofas in various postures, while Prince Xu sat at the dining table, looking down at them.

The aspiring scriptwriters were all flushed and excited. They had just listened to a wealth of valuable information over two hours, and now they felt they had grown significantly, and become incredibly strong.

They can't wait to start writing the script.

"One last question: Have you ever thought about why humans read stories? Who wants to answer first?"

Sakura-chan said, "Because life is boring?"

The poet said, "Because life is boring."

The believer said, "Because I wanted to see something exotic."

Xiao Ba said, "Because you want to broaden your horizons?"

Cheng Xing said, "Because people shouldn't just live this one life, they should also have a poetic world."

Wang Zixu looked at Cheng Xing: "You like Wang Xiaobo?"

Cheng Xing nodded: "I admire Wang Xiaobo."

Prince Xu said, "Then let me test you. Where does this quote come from?"

Cheng Xing hesitated slightly before saying, "Anyway, it's definitely not 'The Silent Majority.' Let me guess... uh, 'The Golden Age'?"

"You guessed wrong. The correct answer is 'Wanshou Temple.' It's in the last section of that book."

Cheng Xing's mouth dropped open: "How do you remember this so clearly?"

Prince Xu did not answer the question.

Xiao Ba opened his mouth in confusion: "What were you talking about? I don't understand."

The believer said, "Oh dear, I thought I was the only desperate illiterate!"

Sakura gave a wry smile: "I haven't read 'The Temple of Longevity.' I have read quite a few of Wang Xiaobo's essays, though."

The poet, chewing gum, asked, "So what's the correct answer?"

Prince Xu jumped down from the dining table: "There is no correct answer. All your answers are correct."

He said to everyone, "There are often no standard answers in creation. Sometimes it's great to write it this way, and it's also good to write it that way."

"You can create according to your own style and principles, but you must always be mindful of preserving your own soul. I asked you this question so that you can see your own unique characteristics."

"I don't want to teach you to be a second, third, or fourth Little Prince; I want you to be yourself. Write boldly, do freely."

These words stirred everyone's emotions, and they all rushed upstairs to start writing.

After watching everyone leave, Wang Zixu felt a wave of dizziness. The previous two hours of intense work had already overworked his mind, keeping him only energized by a surge of adrenaline. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was exhausted. He walked out of the apartment and sat down to rest on the porch.

The sun had passed its most intense moment and was gradually setting in the west. A vast expanse of yellow sand stretched across the boundless plain—sand dunes created by the vibrations of large cranes on construction sites. The afternoon was sultry and windless, the sand lingering near the ground, like the miasma of western Hunan described by Wang Xiaobo in "Wanshou Temple," or like a lurking earth dragon.

The lonely highway stretched straight ahead, cutting across the entire suburbs. The prince squinted, looking towards the end of the highway, and suddenly realized that if he were to transform into a golden giant twenty-eight feet tall and look down at the ground, he would see this long highway as a tail extending from the city, with undulating red slopes on both sides resembling the bony spikes on the spine of a Stegosaurus. And he was sitting on one of the spikes on the Stegosaurus's tail.

Thinking about it this way, this still unfamiliar place suddenly felt familiar. He took out the box from his pocket, picked out a Xuanhemen cigarette, lit it, and put it to his lips. The crane rumbled, and he smoked while admiring the breathtaking scenery.

An Audi drove across the yellow sand and into the smoke rings exhaled by Prince Xu. Then it screeched to a halt in front of him, and Ye Lan got out of the car.

She changed her clothes, no longer wearing the same outfit from the morning, and now wore thick, elegant black stockings, reverting to the standard professional woman's appearance. She was carrying several bags, indicating that the residents here had developed new material needs.

"Aren't you going to work?" the prince asked casually.

Ye Lan walked to the porch, looking very happy: "My work is finished anyway, but I came here early because I was going to bet with you anyway. I have a case of beer in my car, could you move it later?"

The Little Prince never asked for beer. They didn't have time to drink. But Ye Lan didn't care. She said, "How can the betting game be exciting without some alcohol? If you lose, you have to show off a bottle right there."

Just as Wang Zixu's face was about to fall, the woman nonchalantly pulled a box of Häagen-Dazs from her bag and slapped it on his face, making him shiver from the cold: "Here, have some ice cream."

The ice cream was still delicious. I felt too embarrassed to get angry now.

Wang Zixu said, "Next time you come, bring me a pack of cigarettes. The brand is Dafengshou."

"Ugh, I was just helping out by carrying things; do you really think I have nothing better to do?"

Wang Zixu put a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth: "Okay, then I won't trouble you. I'll quit smoking."

Ye Lan took out her phone and opened her notes: "You tell me, what brand?"

Wang Zixu handed her the empty box in his hand: "Great harvest, three yuan a pack."

Ye Lan glared at him: "You're practically President Wang now, and you're smoking cigarettes that cost three yuan a pack?"

"This is still the best."

Finally, a breeze picked up, and the air became cool and refreshing. The porch suddenly felt very comfortable, and Ye Lan didn't want to go in right away. She put a piece of paper under her bottom and sat next to Wang Zixu, with her long legs diagonally placed beside his, forcing Wang Zixu to move half a step away.

She stretched out her long fingernails, laboriously opened a can of beer, and tore open a bag of spicy strips, eating until her fingers were covered in red oil.

Wang Zixu glanced at her sideways, thinking, "You're supposed to be President Ye, and you're eating spicy snacks here? You're not even a Wei Long (a brand of spicy snacks), and you had the nerve to talk to me like that." But he was too sullen to say a word, just sitting there thinking. Ye Lan, on the other hand, couldn't hold back any longer and started eating, drinking, and chatting.

"So? Can you handle these scriptwriters? I've looked at their information; they're all from top universities like Nanjing University and Shanghai University of Finance and Economics. Do you think they'll submit to you?"

In Ye Lan's eyes, Prince Xu did not have the same enchantment as the Little Prince. In her heart, he was always just "a relative that Zuo Ziliang randomly picked out".

Wang Zixu said dejectedly, "To be honest, my university wasn't bad..."

Ye Lan said while taking a bite of spicy snack, "Yeah, but you're studying science. Zuo Ziliang told me you're studying science. You're studying science, right?"

Wang Zixu said, "This has nothing to do with arts or sciences. Wang Xiaobo studied science, and he could even program. Literature requires observation and imagination, and these abilities are not limited to arts or sciences."

"Who is Wang Xiaobo? Your brother?"

"no……"

"Then how come he shares your last name?"

"...It's a coincidence. Never mind, you didn't know."

Ye Lan said, "I hadn't looked at our speech therapists' profiles before, and I was shocked when I did. This one's a Chinese literature major, that one's a web novel author. I used to think our speech therapists were all scoundrels, but they're all geniuses. Hey, I have something to tell you..."

She leaned closer and whispered to the prince, "You absolutely mustn't tell them your true identity. If they find out you're not powerful, they might not respect you."

Wang Zixu remained silent: "I teach practical skills. Regardless of whether I have published any works or not, they can always sense whether the practical skills are useful."

Ye Lan sneered: "Heh, your thinking is too naive. Sometimes the world isn't that simple. Just because someone is more capable doesn't mean they'll submit to you. That's just wishful thinking on your part."

Years of experience have taught Wang Zixu that she is right, but he doesn't want to admit it verbally. He just lowers his head and says, "Even if it's not about being convinced, I can't reveal my identity."

"You're afraid your wife will find out, aren't you?"

"Um."

Ye Lan pointed her pinky finger into the air and said, "I'm really curious about what your wife looks like. Really."

Prince Xu didn't speak. He suddenly felt a little sleepy.

After finishing her spicy snack, Ye Lan took out a tissue to wipe her hands, then suddenly grinned mischievously: "Want to know how much the data has increased today?"

Seeing her smug expression, Wang Zixu knew the result was bound to be bad, and said, "It didn't grow much, did it?"

Ye Lan laughed and said, "At least you know your place."

Wang Zixu said, "You're also a shareholder of the company, why are you so happy that the price hasn't gone up?"

Ye Lan said, "The percentage hasn't increased, but the absolute value has. You've done a great job generating this buzz, Mr. Wang. I did the calculations, and although I have fewer shares, I'll be able to earn tens of thousands more this month."

Prince Xu shook his head: "Only tens of thousands..."

"Tens of thousands is already pretty good. With such a small turnover, you expect to become rich and powerful?"

Prince Xu looked into the distance: "Let the bullets fly for a while."

"What did you say?"

"Let the bullets fly for a while."

Ye Lan slapped him on the shoulder: "Come on, always putting on airs like that, who are you trying to impress with this handsome act?"

After patting her hand away from Wang Zixu's shoulder, Ye Lan froze. Both of them looked over at the small red stain on her shoulder shirt, which was the chili oil that Ye Lan hadn't wiped off her hand.

"Uh, sorry."

……

While Ye Lan was lounging on the sofa playing on her phone, the scriptwriters started submitting their drafts one after another. Wang Zixu sat in the dining room, revising each script as it came in, while the scriptwriters sat beside him watching. In the end, all five of them gathered around him.

After Prince Xu finished revising a sentence, Sakura-chan exclaimed as if she had witnessed a miracle, her eyes wide with amazement: "Wonderful, Teacher Prince! So this is how the principle of regression is used! I've learned something new!"

The believer glared at him: "You're just playing the Elden Ring game. Returning to the fundamental principle, there's no 'sex' involved."

Sakura-chan said, "I thought no one could pick up on this joke."

The poet gave them both a cold look: "Damn idiots. You two wrote the most revisions and wasted the most time."

Sakura-chan said with a determined look, "The more changes you make, the higher your potential for growth."

The believer is full of confidence: "The higher the potential for growth, the stronger the future strength will be."

"Alright." Wang Zixu pressed Ctrl+S to save the file. "It's ready to submit now, but it's too slow. Tomorrow I'll teach you how to speed up your typing."

Everyone's eyes lit up, and they nodded repeatedly, "Good, good, good."

After sending the others away to continue writing, Wang Zixu operated the computer and packaged the script, sending it to Huang Da.

Ye Lan rubbed her eyes and walked over: "You're done already?"

Wang Zixu nodded, lay back in the chair to catch his breath, then got up, created a new document, and planned to start brainstorming ideas for the novel for the writing competition.

Ye Lan placed her hand on his shoulder: "You don't need to do anything else? You really plan to just rely on a few scripts to boost the data?"

"What else? I'm just a writer."

Prince was weak and listless. He felt his eyelids were heavy and he was extremely sleepy.

Ye Lan said, "Awesome. I thought you would use their influence to have a few of them recruit new users in your own fan groups."

"Even if they manage to gather fans, how long can that last? To maintain the numbers, it ultimately comes down to content creation. That's the reason I exist."

Ye Lan rubbed her forehead: "Should I say you're extremely naive or... extremely confident?"

After saying that, she cheered up again, lightly twirled around while holding onto the table, and her Omega watch on her wrist sparkled.

"Well, you're definitely going to lose anyway, how about we raise the stakes? Just betting on drinks and late-night snacks is too boring. Let's have something more exciting, something to get the young people hyped up, it'll be a team-building activity too. Come on, how do we play?"

Prince Xu stared at her with his large, narrowed eyes, then yawned loudly: "How do you plan to gather your strength?"

Ye Lan chuckled. She knew a lot of overly aggressive ways to "break the ice," but Prince Xu had a wife and his threshold for rejection was too high. She was afraid that if she brought it up, he would immediately refuse, which would be no fun.

(End of this chapter)